where the tides of madness swell
by Mia-Zeklos
Summary: "If he's honest with himself, it's borderline painful. It's unnatural for such a connection to be forged to begin with, but all the more so for them to try to bury it completely and it's pure instinct that whispers that to him every time he tries to snuff it out."


**Notes: Title taken from _Veteran of the Psychic Wars_** **by Blue Oyster Cult.**

 **I'm... not entirely sure what this is. It's my first go at this fandom and I deemed it decent enough to post, although my hold on the characterisation and the SW universe in general is still a little shaky. Either way, I hope it's enjoyable and feedback is always welcome!**

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It's a silly thing to focus on. Ben knows this, in theory; it's a silly thing to even _think_ about when he has as much work on his hands as he currently does. He's drowning in things that need to be done and assignments that need to be distributed and after the day he's had, he can already feel a headache building up, but—

—but she's right there. She hasn't noticed him yet (that, or she's pretending not to, which wouldn't be much of a surprise either) and it's only a matter of time before she does, but Ben doesn't mind. He's exhausted as it is and the onslaught of emotion that's surely to follow if he makes his presence known would only serve to make things worse. _She_ is more than capable of exhausting him all on her own, with the conflicted signals she's sending off and the maelstrom of questions and fury and hope and righteous anger is more intense than anything he remembers ever feeling; more intense than anything he's actually prepared to handle.

It's present right now – in the back of her mind, she can already sense that he's close and is doing her level best to wait it out until he disappears. If the effect of the bond for her is anything like the one he feels on his side, then it's no small feat, and for once, Ben is grateful for her efforts.

Somehow, he'd expected the connection between them to cut itself off after Snoke's death. He had been the one to create it, after all, he'd said so himself, and it should have been _over_ already. Trying to fight and studiously ignore something that should have never existed in the first place means wasting even more of his time on the rebels than he's already forced to. Worse, it's making him feel increasingly helpless and the fact that Rey feels the same is far less satisfying than he'd hoped it would be.

If he's honest with himself, it's borderline painful. It's unnatural for such a connection to be forged to begin with, but all the more so for them to try to bury it completely and it's pure instinct that whispers that to him every time he tries to snuff it out.

It's a pity that he can't see where she is, really. This entire thing wouldn't be nearly as worthless then, because at least it could be useful for strategy – and for finding whatever is left from the rebellion's active soldiers, who seem to have dropped from the face of the galaxy – but it's still just her and the blaster in her hand that she's trying to repair with far too much dedication.

Nothing new on that front, then. He had at least been able to sense other Force-sensitives near her, but there's nothing to be sensed now and she's either learnt to block him out better or she's on her own. The latter, if he had to guess, but that's not at all enough to go by if he's trying to figure out her location. Rey is often alone, either by choice or necessity, and if it hadn't been for the last (first) time they'd actually met, Ben knew that he would have used that as a chance to talk to her a long time ago.

Almost a year had passed from that moment; almost a year from Crait and the fiasco that no one appears to be able to forget. It should have been _easy_ to get through his days given the power that had landed at his feet the moment the news of Snoke's death had started spreading around, but it's just about the worst thing he's ever had to deal with. The position he had inherited is weighing him _down_ , Ben can feel, and it's not what he'd wanted for himself, but there's nothing he can do about it now without ruining everything he's worked for for so long. So instead, he waits; waits and bids his time and tries to learn what he can of what he's supposed to in the limited time that he has for it.

He's never been too good at focusing on things that he'd rather forget, though, and any effort usually results in nothing but this: his intense focus crumbling the moment he leaves his mind open for a moment and Rey flickers into view. He wonders how he looks surrounded by— well, wherever she is and the idea brings an irrational amount of amusement with itself.

Enough for her resolve to finally crumble, as it happens. Rey's hold around her blaster tightens almost imperceptibly and she looks up, lips pressed into a tight line. "Get out of my head," she says, just like she had when she had just woken up in his interrogation room all those months ago. It's just as futile now, although for entirely different reasons – they both know that it's not something he can control.

"Believe me, if it was up to me—"

" _Please_." And it's not just her resolve crumbling, now; it's the neutral expression she'd tried to maintain so far. It's not an unfamiliar look on her face – _don't do this, Ben, please don't go this way_ – and he can't bear to see it again; not so soon. Perhaps not ever. His voice softens.

"It's not my choice to make."

She looks away again, this time towards something he isn't entitled to seeing instead of the weapon she's trying to repair. Her hands are still working on it, but it's more muscle memory than anything else; only a desperate attempt at distracting herself.

"I know." She sounds a little as if she's struggling for breath now. "You could at least try."

"So could you."

"I am."

"It's not enough."

"I _know_." He recognises the feeling needling in the back of his head this time and it belongs to her as much as it does to him. Helplessness. It's still not satisfying in the slightest, but it _is_ somewhat comforting despite the hurricane of sensation building up inside her once again. "Please, just—"

It's a bad idea. The worst he's ever had, possibly. Still, Ben stands up from his bed and nears her; reaches out until he can almost feel the world around her instead of the one he inhabits. The look of disbelief he receives for his trouble doesn't do much to discourage him.

"There's only one way to learn."

This would have been amusing too, if it hadn't been quite so tragic: the only way to shut each other out might be through making the connection even stronger than it already is, and Rey _understands_ , even if she wishes she didn't have to.

It almost feels like a victory up to the point when she gets to her feet and meets him halfway, and then something about it goes terribly wrong. Their hands meet and Ben's mind goes perfectly quiet for the first time in what feels like eternity and this time he's the one trying to shield himself from the truth, but it's too late – he knows he's lost forever.


End file.
